We Were Never Star Crossed
by Fearless Rider
Summary: Cato and Clove were never star crossed. Clato one-shot.


A/N: Wow it's been a while! First I was away at my orientation, then I was sick, then I started college, and now I finally have time and muse! This might be kind of crummy, it's been a while since I wrote much, but I think I like it and I watched the movie again last night which inspired me.

As always, The Hunger Games and all characters belong to Suzanne Collins.

Enjoy!

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There was no such thing as star crossed lovers in District 2.

You didn't fall in love. You trained.

Your childhood and teenaged years were spent in the academy, trying to be the best. The very best. In your class. In your academy. In your district. In all of Panem. All for that moment when you would volunteer. All for that moment when you made the final kill and were crowned victor of the Games.

Cato and Clove were no different.

Cato grew up angry. His mother died when he was barely five, because the Capitol wouldn't send her medicine. His father, a victor, dealt with his scars by hitting his son. Cato never knew anything but anger and hurt and that's how he learned to deal with what life dealt him. He hit back. He hit harder.

Clove was an inconvenience to her mother, the obvious product of selling your body for money. Her mother drank away every cent she made and smacked her daughter around when she came in second place. She never knew love and hardened her heart against the world.

They met when she was eight and he was nine. Two angry children with chips on their shoulders and a tenuous grasp on sanity at best. They started as rivals, they never really lost that drive to beat the other, but after a time, they came together, came to help each other, to be a team.

And maybe it grew into more.

Maybe when Cato finally broke down and finally hit his father back, it was Clove who helped him hide the body. Who feigned innocence when the Peacekeepers came knocking.

Maybe Cato was the only person Clove ever cried in front of when her mother screamed at her for coming in second place in the academy to the girl who would go on to win the Games that year.

Maybe Cato went to Clove the time he nearly died in training, shaken, afraid for the first time.

Maybe when Clove stabbed the girl who beat her out again in the scores killing her in her bed, Cato was the one who wiped the blood off her cheeks.

Maybe Clove was the only one who ever saw the side of Cato that wasn't a brutal killer. Saw the boy he could have been if things had been different.

Maybe Cato was the only one who ever saw that Clove might not have been bloodthirsty if she had known anything else.

Maybe they even fell in love.

But when the Games came around and Clove was number one because of that one rash moment and a knife in that girl's eye and Cato was number one because he was the very best of the district, they were on a train headed to an arena to kill each other.

They formed an alliance, of course they did, they were Careers and the past was the past. This was the present. This was their future. They were both determined to be the victor.

There could only be one victor.

They didn't talk the rest of the time in training. They avoided each other completely. Didn't even make eye contact. The only thing they agreed on was how much they hated the stupid 12 tributes, with their disgusting lovers act. You would never catch a Career acting like that.

But that last night, when Clove woke up from a nightmare, Cato was knocking on her door, watching her awkwardly.

Well hell. It might be their last night in this world. They made the most of it. They would think about it tomorrow.

They went in. They made it. They were doing well. The other tributes were getting knocked off quickly and privately, secretly they began to worry. What if it came down to the two of them?

It would be so much easier for someone else to kill him. But she would do it if she had to. She kept her knives on hand. Always.

When the time came down to it, he would do it. He would. It would be easy, just another slice of the sword. He just wouldn't look into those big brown eyes while he did it.

And when the announcement came that there could be two victors, it was a second chance. A new beginning. It was hope.

They became even more vicious, more brutal, ready to kill. Just four more kills and they could go home. They could go home together.

In the Capitol they were focused on 12. But a few people noticed 2. How they looked at each other. The way Clove slept with Cato's arm around her. The kisses stolen when they thought the cameras were elsewhere.

Most people rooted for 12, but a few rooted for 2. Whispered that they were the star crossed lovers that nobody knew.

Hope drove them and when the Feast came they had a plan.

But like everything in their short lives, it would never end happily for them. Everything came crashing down. Their hope was just fool's gold.

She was overconfident.

He was in the wrong place.

She was too slow.

He didn't get there in time.

And when the rock hit her, she was afraid for the first time in a long time. She screamed his name and she had been so sure he would come.

He was too late. She was dying when he got there. She took her last breath in his arms. The only place she had ever felt safe. His blue, blue eyes were the last thing she saw before the darkness overcame her.

After that he didn't really care. He killed Thresh in the most painful way he could think of. For her. He would kill District 12. For her. It was all he knew how to do. To kill. Going home didn't matter. He would go home to an empty house. To no more dark brown eyes.

But in the end he fell short.

When the mutts were ripping his body to pieces, he could see her eyes, and they were connected to the thing hurting him and it just didn't make sense.

"I'm sorry!" he screamed. "Clove!"

Of course. He had failed to save her. This was his punishment. She wouldn't have just let that go.

And when the girl hung down with the brown hair he didn't know if it was 12 or Clove anymore. Maybe it was her. Coming to take him away from this torture. Maybe she wasn't there to punish him after all.

"Please."

They were never star crossed.

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A/N: This is the product of a lot of trying to write Clato so I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are much appreciated, constructive criticism, ideas, if you liked it, whatever. I have a few single scenes for them kicking around, but I could never get the dialogue right so this was the final result.

Anyway, for my Sailor Moon readers, don't worry, I haven't given up on Eyes. For Hunger Gamers, I expect there shall be more one-shots to come.

Thanks for reading!


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